


A Mother's Request

by thewritershaianna



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:49:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29639769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewritershaianna/pseuds/thewritershaianna
Summary: When Link's mother is faced with her impending death, a sole request, along with the help of the Children of the Forest, changes the course of Hyrule's history.
Kudos: 6





	A Mother's Request

**Author's Note:**

> **For Linktoberzine application**

**A Mother’s Request**

Meandering its way through the tall grass of the Kokiri forest was a scraggly, grey squirrel in search for its evening meal. An acorn lay a few feet away, its scent tantalizing to the small mammal. It looked around, left and then right, before making its way toward its dinner. No sooner did it lift its front paw was there a sound from deep within the trees, catching its ears, automatically erecting them. The sound grew louder, giving the squirrel a fright, forcing it to retreat in a small bush. It poked a whiskery head out at the intruder.

A woman.

She slid off of the back of a lean, dark horse, her arms wrapped around a pile of cloth, holding it close to her. Her dark hair was collected back in one long, knotted plait, escaped strands plastered to her cheeks and forehead, obscuring the small features of her face. Tears streaked her cheeks, creating a small path from the bottom lid of her puffy eyes to her jawline, distinguishing her pallor against the dark, smeared dirt and blood that caked her face. She drew her cloak around her body with one hand, the other cradling the cloth, her breathing ragged. She ran toward the forest, foregoing her horse. Her gait was uneven. Every step sent shooting pain down her right leg, but she did not stop to look at it. There was no time. Someone was behind her.

The forest grew thicker as she continued. Less moonlight penetrated the canopy of leaves above, making it difficult for her to navigate her way. Her head pounded, and the trees blurred together. Why did that bush look so familiar? Hadn’t she seen that rock before? Who was following her? She continued to limp forward, clutching the cloth impossibly closer to her chest.

She stood there for a moment, staring ahead at the dense forest before her, blinking rapidly as the corners of her vision became fuzzy. She felt nauseous and dizzy, her heart racing in her chest. Her head swam as she stumbled backward, and she sunk to the ground, landing hard on her back.

Within seconds, several small children fluttered around her, some climbing down tall tree trunks, some digging their ways out of thick brush, and a few breathing heavily, finally able to catch up to her. A fairy floated behind each child, huddling closer to their child’s shoulder than normal.

“Oh no, i-is she dead?” one timid child asked, her hands raised to cover her mouth.

“Look, she’s still breathing!” a blonde-haired girl squeaked, kneeling beside the woman, a small hand on her abdomen.

Chatter broke out among the children as they observed the woman. She was young, beautiful, and very hurt. One child suggested asking the woman her name, but when a short, rosy-cheeked boy stooped down and looked into her eyes, questioning her name, she looked back confused. He asked again, speaking louder this time, but her eyebrows furrowed and she muttered something about dinner.

“I think she’s confused,” the short boy said as the woman continued to mumble aimlessly. “Where do you think she’s fro—”

“Shhh!” the blonde-haired girl hissed. “What’s that sound?”

Silence fell over the children as they held their breath, listening for sounds apart from the mother’s mutterings.

“It’s coming from there!” another child said, pointing at the pile of cloth under the woman’s cloak. “Something’s moving under her coat!”

She pried the mother’s arms away from her chest and pulled layer after layer of cloth from the wriggling mass. She gasped, pulling her hands from the cloak as though it had grown suddenly hot.

Within the cocoon of swaddled cloth lay a whimpering newborn. The children exchanged worried glances, looking to each other for direction.

“Let’s not just stare at them! Come on, let’s get her back to the settlement. We can’t help her here!” directed a black-haired girl. “You two,” she commanded, pointing to a pair of blonde-haired twins, “grab the baby. The rest of you, help me lift her.”

All of the children surrounded the woman. After the twins had removed the baby, the remaining children slid their small hands underneath the woman. “On three!” someone called out, and when the number was announced, a collective groan could be heard among the children as they lifted her with their combined strength.

Deeper into the forest they travelled, as fast as their little legs could carry them, slowed down by the extra weight and awkward bumping of knees and feet. The forest grew darker, but their trained feet knew the way, illuminated by the light of their fairies who led the way.

They arrived at a small settlement deep within the forest. Small homes carved from thick, tall tree stumps lined the perimeter of the valley, and a clear-blue creek ran through the middle where, along the bank, the woman was set.

The children burst into action, rolling up their sleeves, gathering medicinal herbs, wraps, and buckets from the surrounding homes, and evaluating her wounds. Two deep gashes, one on her right thigh, the other on her scalp, bled freely through the leaves covering them, painting the two pairs of small hands that held pressure against the wounds a deep red. The woman’s breathing came in quick, deep gulps, then would cease for a heart-stopping few seconds, repeating its cycle.

The buckets were pushed beneath the water’s rippled surface, pulling water to irrigate her wounds. A tight band was tied around her upper thigh in a vain attempt to stop the persistent bleeding. At a particularly hard tug of the band, the woman jerked forward, her arms rapidly flailing over her body. Eyes wide and frantic, the woman began to cry, heart-wrenching sobs shaking the children to the core.

“What’s wrong w-with her!” a small boy with narrow eyes wailed.

“Hold on, he’s right here,” the red-headed boy said to her. He turned to the twins holding the baby. “Bring her baby over here!”

Startled, the boys jumped to their feet, scooped up the child, and carried him to his mother. The child’s pudgy fingers merely graced the woman’s cheek and distress melted from her expression. She closed her eyes, tears overflowing, and clutched onto the blonde boy, a desperate grasp. “Please help,” she whispered. Her eyes opened slightly, and they saw the watery blue of her iris.

The red-headed boy froze, overcome with pity for the woman. “I don’t think we can help her much more.” He stared down into her blue eyes, watching them as they spoke words she could not form with her trembling lips. “We need to bring her to Him.” He turned to look at his fairy. “Show us the way., will you guys?”

The children watched the red-headed boy as he fought back tears. Then, collectively, after they had exchanged nods of agreement and bit their trembling bottom lips, they gathered around the woman and picked her up again. They trudged into the forest after the floating fairies as the woman silently wept, holding her child, who had grown eerily calm.

They entered a large clearing, dilapidated in moonlight through the brush above. Firebugs of every color traced patterns into the air, the crickets providing a steady beat for their flittering. In the middle of the clearing, towering over the children and the surrounding trees, was a grand, majestic tree. Its roots shot out from its sides, firmly planting it to the ground. Wide, crooked paths ran up the bark, and at the top, large branches, rich with lush, green foliage, swayed slightly with the breeze.

The children looked up at the face of the trunk where, to the well trained eye, a face could be seen. “Lay her down in front of Him,” the red-haired boy instructed, then looked up once again into the face. “Great Deku Tree, we need your help. Please, help her.” The children retreated from the woman.

As gentle as the breeze surrounding them, the children heard “Bring her closer to me.” They scurried to the woman, performing their choreographed lift. The woman’s eyes fluttered open and she took in the giant tree before her, gasping and searching the children’s eyes for answers.

“Don’t worry, if anyone can help you, He can,” whispered a blonde-haired girl. “She’s really hurt and confused,” she then said to the Tree. “She has a baby too, look!” She peeled back the blanket as though peeling back a layer of an onion, revealing the small pink face.

“My children, step away from her. Let me look over her wounds,” the Tree commanded with His deep, gentle tenor. They hesitated for a moment, but eventually ambled back, forming into a crooked line behind the woman.

“W-we did all we could,” came a child’s shaky voice as tears flowed from her eyes.

The tree was silent, and the crickets followed suit, an eerie quiet settling over the clearing. One of the children chewed on her fingernails, another wrung his hands together, waiting for the Great Deku Tree’s response. Time seemed to stand still. They held their breath, feeling the ache in their lungs, yet not daring to make a noise and exhale.

Finally, the tree sighed. “You all did well; alas, these wounds are beyond healing.”

A mournful cry broke the silence, shattering it, and it felt as though the pieces had jutted themselves into the children’s chests. Whimpers could be heard over the woman’s piteous moans; the children could no longer contain their grief.

“My dear woman, it grieves me to say this to you,” came the Tree’s response. “Who has done this to you?”

She fumbled with the pile of cloth on her. “T-the war…my h-husband couldn’t k-keep them away…I—” Sobs overtook the woman, she visibly shook on the ground.

Overcome with sadness, a dark-haired girl instinctively stepped from the line towards the woman to comfort her, but hesitated and looked up, remembering the Tree’s command earlier.

“Yes, my child, you may comfort her. Her time is short with us,” the Tree whispered. “Raise her head a moment.” The child did as she was told, and a breeze swept through the clearing; along with it flew several thick leaves, floating toward and arranging themselves under the woman’s head. The rest of the children surrounded her, running small fingers through her hair and laying their hands on hers, which clung to her child atop her.

“P-please,” the woman spoke, smiling at the children then turning her attention to the Tree, “please t-take my baby.” Her hands shook as she tried to grasp her child, now crying, and lift him off of her body.

“Your baby,” said the Tree. “Tell me his name.”

Tears welled once again in her eyes as she watched her child cry. “Link. His name is Link.” She drew the child back into her, kissing him on the forehead.

“Link,” the Tree repeated, his voice with a tone of reverence. “A Hylian child?”

The woman nodded. “Yes, a Hylian.” She smiled up at the child, who was now distracted by the soft hums of one of the forest children. “I wish him not fall victim to this war. Please, please take him. Keep him safe. I beg of you.”

For the second time that night, the Tree fell silent for a moment, then spoke. “Your child will be raised in the forest. I will protect him,” the tree paused, and a warm breeze swirled around the woman, the smells of the forest calming her and her child, “…as long as fate allows me to.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. She raised the child to her lips, laying one final kiss on the quiet child. “I love you, my sweet child.” She rested her head back, her dark hair flowing through the grass, and pulled her child into one final hug before she fell still.


End file.
